


Something to Convince Me

by AVioletRose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Recovery, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 19:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVioletRose/pseuds/AVioletRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-canon, but ignore the epilogue. <br/>About a year after Hermione graduates from Hogwarts, the Trio and their group of friends are shaken up when Hermione makes the decision to leave Ron and strike out on her own. This story is about her healing, re-learning who she is in her own right, and finding new chances (and second chances) along the way. Possible smut, definite angst. <br/>Eventual Dramione, but it will take a while to get there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from a conversation with one of my lovely nerd-sisters about our dreams for the new HP release this summer. I never thought Ron and Hermione could make it for the long haul, and this is my interpretation of what could have happened.   
> Story and chapter title both from "A New Life" from the Jekyll and Hyde musical soundtrack.  
> Dedicated to and written for my amazing beta, je0213!

Hermione looked around the too-empty living room of her new too-empty apartment and sighed as she wrapped her arms around herself. The quidditch scarves and football flyers she’d gotten used to were missing. The dishes were all where they belonged. The floor was clear of socks, and the coat hooks by the door held only her neat assortment of scarves and jackets. The clock ticked on the wall, filling the massive silence that stretched around her. It was real, then.

Ron wasn’t here. She’d moved out. She didn’t even know how he was. She hadn’t even asked. In her grief and anger and distraction since she’d left, she’d cut herself off from him entirely. She had told him not to contact her and burrowed herself into her parents’ house. Apparently he’d chosen now to listen to her, for the first time in their near-decade of friendship and eventual relationship. She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door, and she wasn’t sure if the feeling in her chest was relief or grief as she noticed his set missing. He’d never managed to put his keys in the damn bowl anyway, it had been part of her routine to put them in for him.

The couch she’d taken from her parents’ basement was as soft and welcoming as ever, though the throw blanket Molly had knitted them for Christmas had been replaced by a plush new microfiber one from a department store her parents had taken her to. She allowed herself a bitter moment to wonder if he planned to find a new “H” to share the monogrammed monster with, before sinking her face into her hands and crying. Her head ached from all the crying she’d done up til now. She wished it would stop, but this was the end of an era. She’d loved Ron since she was twelve years old. They’d become adults loving each other, they’d grown uptogether…but their love hadn’t. Their love was the love of children, fickle and conditional. They’d fought constantly, and they’d both been naïve enough to believe that saying they were sorry made the hurts go away. A part of her would always love him, but they’d never really been right for each other. She needed to be challenged, and he needed to have fun. She wanted to see the world, and he wanted to see quidditch games. She loved to read and wanted someone she could discuss the characters and things she loved with…he loved quidditch. She had ambitions and the drive to achieve them, and Ron…Ron had ambitions and every intention of her achieving them for him. Perhaps that wasn’t fair, but it had always seemed to be the case, even in school.

She supposed she should have known when he didn’t go back to school. Of course, neither had Harry, but Harry had always had some of his own drive. Taking a deep breath, Hermione stood back up to walk through the rest of the apartment.

The kitchen was much the same as the old one was, though the gifts his mother had given them when they moved in together weren’t there. He had never used the mixing bowls or the serving dishes, but they were his now. The biggest difference in this kitchen was how clean it was. Everything had its place, and everything was in that place. Her bathroom was short one toothbrush, though the holder had four holes, and all of his toiletries. She’d managed to be strong and not buy a bottle of the soap he used just for the smell. She remembered using it on tough days, wanting to surround herself in him. She shook the thought from her head as she made her way to her bedroom.

Her bed had been her big investment. Where most of the furniture had been adopted from her parents’ extra things or picked up cheap at second-hand shops, the bed was brand new and all hers. It was queen sized and perfect, piled high with pillows and covered in dark blue and purple patterns. It made her smile, despite everything.

Tomorrow she’d go back to work and her real life. She missed the Ministry, the hustle and bustle of the department and the good she was doing. Tomorrow, she’d be herself again. But today she would let herself grieve, because her life was never going to be the same. She’d lost Ron. She’d likely lost Harry, or at least their friendship was forever changed. Ginny, who to her credit was trying her hardest to stay neutral despite everything, was coming over for dinner later in the week. Their group of friends was built upon the fragile concept of a Golden Trio that everyone revolved around, and Hermione had cast herself out on purpose. She’d painfully excised the attachments that were killing her, because she wasn’t deluded. The relationship with Ron had been poisonous; the only difference was that he’d been willing to endure it for the comfort of something familiar.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the time to deal with those things. Today was the time for a bath and a book.

The bath was heavenly, and her book had survived without wet fingerprints. Feeling lighter, Hermione walked into the living room to find an owl perched outside the window. She opened the window hastily to let Archimedes in. He was a magnificent owl, and picking him out had been a very emotional day with Harry. She untied the letter from his leg and patted his head as she tried not to go down the road of thinking of everything they’d lost in the war. Hedwig was the tip of the iceberg. Friends, family…if Hermione let herself, that particular grief would overwhelm the grief of losing Ron any day.

The note from Harry was short and simple. He wished her well, he would stop by to see her new place soon, he was just a little tied up right now. Harry had very craftily skirted the topic of her now-ex-boyfriend, but the implication was clear. He wasn’t coming to see her because he was too bogged down dealing with Ronald. She hadn’t expected any less, really. Everyone expected her to be self-sufficient, and she was. It didn’t mean she wasn’t also hurting, but she’d been the one to leave, after all. Hermione put the letter on her coffee table as she picked up Crookshanks, who had apparently come out of hiding to hunt Archimedes. “Not today, Fluff.” She kissed his grumpy head and put him back on the floor with a pat on the behind to chase him off from the very tempting owl.

Finding a pen was easy; writing a reply to Harry that didn’t sound bitter was less so. She understood where he was coming from. Ron was his best friend, he had been for ages. Ron was predictably unstable right now. Harry needed to be there. Hermione tried not to think about all the nights she’d spent in the woods hunting Horcruxes after Ron had run away, she tried not to think angry thoughts about how she’d earned the right to be his best friend.

She tried and failed. However, the reply she wrote sounded polite and friendly enough. Sure, she understood, her place was ready for visitors whenever he was ready to visit. She tied it to Archimedes’ leg and let him fly away before collapsing back onto her couch.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be better. For now, the book on her coffee table was calling her name. Her fingers parted the well-worn pages and she lost herself in prose. Tomorrow she could be Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age and off to work. For now, she was Hermione, newly single and trying not to cry.


	2. However Hard the Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you're all having fun reading it.   
> This chapter title taken from "I Must Go On", also from the Jekyll and Hyde soundtrack. So far, that album is seeming fairly appropriate for this fic.  
> As always, much love and thanks to je0213, without whom this fic would not exist.

 

Hermione wasn’t one to hide from anything, or else she probably would have cancelled dinner with Ginny. She’d grabbed take-out for them on the way home from the office; in the chaos of catching up on missed time there she’d been simply too exhausted to think about cooking dinner. It was now sitting on the counter, a handy warming charm keeping it at just the right temperature, while Hermione tidied up her already pristine apartment.

What if Ginny was too upset with her? What if she didn’t want to be friends anymore? What if the only reason they’d been friends in the first place was that Ginny couldn’t escape her due to the connection with Ron?

Logic told Hermione all of that wasn’t true. She and Ginny had become like sisters over the years. They’d bonded through fear and trauma, but also through smiles and love. They’d giggled about boys together and cried over losing loved ones. They’d helped save the world together, for goodness’ sake. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder, though, if this was the breaking point. She’d broken up with Ginny’s brother and undoubtedly caused a lot of pain and turmoil in the process. The Weasleys had been through enough; it was possible that Ginny wouldn’t forgive her for putting one of them through any more.

Having run out of pretend-cleaning to do, Hermione went about setting out plates in the living room. She hadn’t bought a proper table yet, and this was hardly a formal dinner. She’d grabbed sodas with the take out, so she put ice in cups and was about to pour drinks when there was a knock at her door. She ignored the pounding in her chest and ears as she turned to open the door. This was silly, Ginny was her friend, this would be fine.

Immediately as the door opened, the thin redhead on the other side flung herself at Hermione in a hug. “Oh Hermione. I’m so glad to see you!” Ginny pulled back to smile at her, and Hermione found herself believing that things would be okay. “Trendy, living in a muggle neighborhood. Aren’t you worried about being seen though?”

Hermione smiled back at her friend and shrugged. “It’s fine, honestly. Besides, it means I have television.” She pointed at the box sitting in her living room, another hand-me-down from her parents. “I’m not exactly socializing here, anyway. I work, I come home, I do some more work or I read and I sleep.” She led Ginny further into the living room and finished pouring the soda. When she handed Ginny her glass, Hermione saw the sadness written in her features. “Don’t look like that, it’s not as harsh as it sounds. It’s my choice, Gin.”

“I know, I know. It just sounds awfully lonely.” Ginny looked around the living room as she sat down. “Well, it’s a nice place though. Very you.” Clearly she was talking about the bookshelves and the near-obsessive cleanliness, which made Hermione blush a bit.

“Thank you. I’m rather partial to it. Hungry?” She pointed to the food spread on the coffee table. “I grabbed Chinese on the way home. It sounded good.”

At Ginny’s enthusiastic agreement, they sat together and ate. Small talk reigned as they caught up on what Ginny was up to, how graduation had gone, and the upcoming quidditch try-outs. She let Ginny lead the conversation, smiling and exclaiming when appropriate. The talk of Hogwarts made her chest ache; the castle had been her home for years, and now that she’d graduated she often found herself missing it. Ginny and Harry’s new co-habitation was going well, though Ginny stuttered over telling her that. This, of course, opened the can of worms they’d both managed to avoid up until then.

Hermione set her empty plate on the coffee table and took Ginny’s to stack it on top. “Ginny, really, I’m doing well. I have work, I have the place. I’m moving in a good direction, here.”

“I know.” Ginny rubbed her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face, fidgeting to release some of the nerves Hermione knew had to be building up. “You need the space for now.”

The phrasing caught Hermione off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She stilled, tension creeping between her shoulders.

Ginny waved a hand as if to brush away her concerns. “We understand. You needed some time. Ron’s just not getting that.”

Hermione straightened, preparing for what she was now sure would be an unpleasant conversation. She didn’t know her friends had so badly misunderstood her actions. What had Ron been telling them in her absence? She’d have to straighten this out. “Some time? Gin, I needed my life back. This isn’t a trial separation before I call the lawyer. The papers are signed on this one, so to say. My relationship with Ron is over.” Hermione winced as Ginny’s mouth fell open in shock.

“But…you two have loved each other for ages!” Ginny reached for Hermione’s hands, and she let her take them. She squeezed Hermione’s fingers as she kept going. “I remember you sitting in my bedroom mooning over him. You’re meant to be.”

“Parts of that are true, yes.” Hermione took a deep breath as she tried to keep the tears that were threatening at the back of her eyes at bay. “I’ll always love Ron, but that doesn’t make us soul mates. I don’t even know if I believe in soul mates. The only thing I’m sure of is that Ron and I...we outgrew each other. We aren’t the children who fell in love anymore. I want different things, and I was losing that with him. I never wanted to hurt him, but I couldn’t stay anymore.”

Ginny’s eyebrows came together and she dropped Hermione’s hands. Hermione watched her friend’s face color as her temper flared, just a bit. “You didn’t want to hurt him? Hermione, you turned around and told him he was basically useless and then you moved out the next morning.”

Hermione grit her teeth at the accusation but didn’t back down. “I did what I had to do. And I never once used the word useless.”

Ginny scoffed. “Whatever word you used, my brother is in pain. I thought this was temporary. We all did. But you’re telling me it’s not, and that’s a little hard to swallow.”

“So I should have stayed in a relationship that was stifling me, was crushing everything I want to be, to keep all of you comfortable? That’s not how it works, Ginny.” Hermione closed her eyes as the tears became more than she could hide. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she took a deep breath, then wiped her cheek and looked back up at Ginny with new resolve. “I think you should go.”

Ginny looked helpless. “That’s not what I meant…”

Hermione cut her off. “I know you’re upset. I know you want to protect Ron, you’re his sister. But you are one of my best friends, and I do not have to listen to you disparage my decisions any longer. You have no idea what our relationship was really like, Ginny. I understand that Ron is hurting, but you know what? So am I. You think leaving him was easy? It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. So I really think you should go.”

Ginny stood, looking crestfallen. “I didn’t come here to fight you, Hermione. I…fine. I’ll talk to you later.” Ginny grabbed her bag and went for the door, and Hermione didn’t stop her.

That had not gone as she had hoped. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to get off the couch; instead she brought her legs to her chest and cried. She’d tried to be strong, she’d tried to move onward and upward, and all of this was just too hard. Her tears soaked through the knees of her slacks and the sobs wracked her body as Hermione wondered just how many fights like this she’d have to have.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of tears and television documentaries, and the next thing Hermione knew the sun was streaming in through her windows and helping Crookshanks wake her up. She’d fallen asleep on the couch again. She got up and went to her bedroom, where her alarm was blaring, and turned it off before hopping across to the bathroom and a shower. Her routine continued as normal: charm her hair dry, get dressed, feed her grumpy cat, and grab some fruit on her way out the door.

The walk to the Ministry was uneventful. Upon arrival at her desk, she saw that the evening’s mail drop had been left for her. She sighed and started to sort through it, finding who in the Department got what, when she saw something addressed directly to her. That didn’t happen often, she wasn’t high up in the department yet, but this looked suspiciously card-like. She broke the seal and opened it to find an animated face on the cover of the card, switching from happy to sad like a cartoon theater mask. When she opened it, she gasped as small fireworks exploded painlessly before her face; they were all light and no fire. When her vision cleared, she read the card:

_Hey Hermione,_

_Sorry my brother’s a git. Don’t be a stranger._

_George_

Hermione’s grin was immediate and face-splitting. One of her chief worries, made even worse by the disastrous talks with Ginny, was that she would lose the Weasley family. They’d been part of her life for so long, long before the relationship with Ron had started, and she hated to lose them all. She’d have understood, though.

Hermione continued her day in a much better mood after writing a quick thank you note to George. She made sure to include that they should get together soon, and sent it on its way with one of the Ministry owls. Then it was business as usual until early afternoon, when a familiar shape appeared at the side of her desk.

Harry looked down at her with tired eyes and a wave. “Hey. Did you have lunch yet? I was hoping…” He trailed off, the meaning obvious. Hermione shook her head and wondered what Ginny had gone home and told him.

“Not yet. I completely forgot to, honestly.” She stood and hugged him. Regardless of what was going on, Harry was her best friend. She hadn’t let a Dark Lord, being tortured, or dating their other best friend get between that, and she’d be damned if she let breaking up with that friend do the job now. “Give me a second to let the boss know where I’m off to and I’ll be ready.”

She handled the necessary arrangements and she and Harry walked out of the office and to the elevator. “You doing all right, Harry?” She looked over at him with concern. He was obviously exhausted, and who knew if it was work, Ginny, or Ron, or some combination thereof.

Harry gave her a small smile. “I should be asking you. I’m fine, just a bit of a crazy day. They sell you being an auror like it’s all glory, and they leave out the paperwork bit. Thank goodness for you, otherwise I don’t think I would have been trained enough to handle it.” He nudged her with his elbow and his smile got a bit brighter.

“Don’t be silly, Harry. You’ve always been bright.” She was used to brushing off his self-deprecating remarks by now. “And I’m fine, really. Whatever Ginny told you.”

They exited the elevator and the Ministry as a whole, going automatically to a café up the block. They’d eaten there several times before, and the staff knew them well. As they sat, Harry looked at her very seriously and a waitress hurried over with their usual drinks. She asked if they’d have their usuals, they both nodded, and Harry continued. “All Ginny said was it didn’t go well, and something about she didn’t think it was permanent?”

Hermione sighed, frustrated. “Apparently she and everyone else were under the impression that my breaking up with Ronald was only temporary. Do you know anything about this?”

Harry shook his head. “I told him not to think that way. He went on about how you’d forgive him eventually. I told him this wasn’t about forgiveness.” He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “Ginny just doesn’t get it, Hermione. He’s her big brother, and yeah, she knows he’s a git sometimes, but she doesn’t know him like we do. She wasn’t there for a lot of things. Don’t hold it against her.”

Hermione nodded. “I don’t hold it against her, Harry.” She squeezed his hand back and let it go as their food arrived, simple sandwiches they could eat quickly and get back to work. She took a bite and then got herself ready for the tough question. “Are you angry with me?”

Harry looked surprised. “What? No!” He put his own sandwich down and tried to find the words. “Look, Ron’s pretty messed up right now. I won’t lie about that. But he’ll get over it. You did what you felt you had to do, and you’d been telling me for a while that you weren’t happy.” He shrugged. “I’m obviously torn here, because I want what’s best for both of you, and right now those aren’t the same thing.”

Hermione felt for him, so she nodded. “Thanks. I don’t think I could bear to lose both of you in the same week.” She sent a half-hearted smile his way before digging back in to her sandwich.

They both seemed content to leave the subject there, and they didn’t say much more other than the usual work talk as they finished their lunches, paid, and headed back to the Ministry.

“Once more into the breach.” Hermione sighed as they got into the elevator and hit the buttons for their respective floors. Harry grinned at her.

“It’s not all bad. Today I got to terrify a guy who had set off a poor old witch’s wards in the middle of the night. Apparently being Harry Potter makes me an excellent interrogator.”

Hermione laughed and gave him a hug as the elevator stopped and memos flew in over their head. “Thanks Harry. For everything. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell Ginny everything’s going to be okay. She’ll call, don’t worry.” The doors closed and Hermione felt lighter than she had in days.

 


	3. The Way Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love playing in this particular playground. Thank you guys for reading and for the feedback.   
> As always, my beta is the reason this story exists. Love.

Summer was fading into fall quickly this year. It had only been a few weeks since she’d left Ron, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel that the world looked completely different. It was shedding its skin, much like she had been. The process was slow, that was to be expected, but it was happening. Her desk at work had been cleared of any mementos of her relationship with Ron, replaced by photos of her family and friends. Nestled in the middle of the frames, though, she’d stashed a small framed picture of the three of them; Ron, Harry, and herself as the small children they’d been. They’d all come so far, but it was a comfort to remember where they’d come from.

Besides, the pictures had often served as a welcome distraction and inspiration during her tedious work days. She’d dreamed of working at the Ministry of Magic since she found out it existed at eleven, but now that it was a reality she found herself frustrated more often than not. She frequently found herself wandering London, trying to exercise off the restless feeling that had been growing inside. Today, she found herself exploring the campus at University College London. As a girl, before the Hogwarts letter, before the Golden Trio, and before she could have ever imagined fighting in a war, Hermione had wanted to go here. Her childhood bedroom had posters and memorabilia, along with the odd Oxford flag, and she’d been quite clear on her plans.

Now, wandering the campus, Hermione thought wistfully about the child she’d been. She’d seen the world in black and white, right and wrong, successful and not. This college was supposed to be her stepping stone to the rest of her life, and instead she was touted as the greatest witch of her age and sat at a desk dealing with bureaucracy and ministers whose policies moved slower than molasses. She’d wanted to make a difference, and instead she found herself wondering if the changes she was helping implement would even happen in her lifetime. She believed in what they were trying to do at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but it all happened so slowly. Before any new legislation could pass, you needed to grease the way with favors and assurances that no one else’s rights would be touched. They were constantly juggling political concerns, and Hermione was exhausted by it.

All she wanted was to help people and magical beings – because really, “creatures” was an outdated term – and she was beginning to feel that the Ministry was the least effective way to do that. The girl who had wanted to change the world was still alive in her, and Hermione was fed up by the egos and higher ups that made that change so difficult. She plopped onto a bench with a sigh and massaged her temples as she tried to figure it all out. She had worked so hard to get here. She had stressed herself daily at Hogwarts for best grades and the most comprehensive schedule. She had spent all those months in the woods with Harry, and then fought in a major battle, and still she had chosen to go back to school and finish what she’d started. All of that, and now she had only one question.

Was this really what she’d fought so hard to achieve?

It wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. Her relationship with Ron had ended for the same reasons she now doubted her choice of career; it was holding her back from all of the things she wanted to do. She needed to feel like she was doing some good in the world, and right now she felt stagnant.

The buildings of UCL rose around her, and Hermione was inspired. An idea bloomed, and though she’d been on the verge of a breakdown or a stress headache only moments ago, a grin broke out across her face. She had to go talk to Harry, he’d be…well, likely he would be confused. Hermione’s optimism faltered as she realized how crazy her idea sounded, even in her head. She wasn’t one to take the leap of faith, she liked plans and schedules and well-thought-out ideas. She needed to talk to someone who understood what she wanted to do, someone who understood doing something because it felt right in your heart.

That train of thought led her to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, where she sought out George behind the counter. He was in the process of exclaiming to a nice middle-aged witch why the product in her hands was absolutely not the right gift for her nephew’s birthday.

“You see, ma’am, most boys your nephew’s age aren’t quite in love with our pygmy puffs.” He gave an exaggerated wince and a shrug. “But I have the thing, just the thing!” George came out from behind the counter, scooped the yellow pygmy puff out of the witch’s hands and led her by the arm to a display against the wall. “This is our Aviatomobile. It’s a toy, sure, but it’s a toy car that flys! He’ll love it. He’ll be the envy of all of his friends.” George’s smile lit the room as he told the witch the price and closed his sale. He didn’t even notice Hermione until he was waving a friendly good-bye to his customer. “Hey, Hermione!” He engulfed her in a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming by today. Good to see you! Everything all right?”

His joy was infectious, and Hermione was glad to see it. Their last lunch over a week ago had been somewhat somber. They’d talked about Fred some, and then he’d let her know that Ron had botched his auror’s exam. This happier and more alive George was a delight. “Yes, things are fine. I just was hoping you might have a moment to talk?” She wrung her hands nervously as George raised his eyebrows at her.

“Well that doesn’t sound fine to me.” He looked around the store and found it empty. A wave of his wand locked the front door and turned the ‘open’ sign to read ‘closed.’ “Come on back then, tell Uncle George all about it.” He ushered her into the back room and into a chair. “So. What’s eating you?” He sat across from her and leaned on the table.

Hermione let out a deep breath and wondered how to start the conversation. She decided leaping in was the way to go. “How did you know leaving Hogwarts and starting the business was the right thing to do?”

George scoffed. “The right thing? Hermione, Fred and I did the fun thing. The thing that made sense for us. Mum tells me all the time, even now with the shop and all, that I should have finished school. What’s brought this on, anyhow?”

“But it was the right thing for you! You have a business; you’re very successful in your own right. You didn’t need to finish school! You had an idea and you ran with it.” Hermione rubbed her eyes, her earlier joy and idealism replaced with doubt and confusion. “I’m thinking about quitting my job.”

George sat up straight, suddenly taking the conversation very seriously. “That’s a big decision, Hermione. You worked so hard to get there. What happened?”

She rolled her eyes. She’d come to George first hoping to avoid some of the talk of what was expected of her. “I know, I know. It’s huge. It’s monumental. It’s also absolutely bonkers. But I hate it, George. I hate trying to change things and make them better and having to grease wheels with favors or pander to politicians to get even the tiniest bit of headway. I want to help people and magical beings now.” Hermione could feel her breaths getting deeper as her rant picked up speed. “Sure, in the long run what we do at the Department helps, but what about right now? What about the House Elves who are being abused and taken advantage of now, or the honest people who can’t get a job because they happen to be werewolves? What about them? They don’t care that in five years a law might finally pass to help others like them; they need help now.”

She ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes to think for a second. “I want to help them now, George, not in five years. The department will continue with or without me, but these beings need somewhere to go, someone they can count on. I want to start a coalition or something, I don’t have a name yet, that would lobby the Ministry for change but would also provide services and protection for beings that are in trouble now.”

George nodded as he took in everything she’d said. He leaned across the table, took her hands in his, and he smiled. “Hermione, you’re brilliant. You also happen to be right.” He squeezed her hands and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You should do it. You’ll need funding, though. I can do some, with the store and all, but you’ll need more backing than just Wheezes, that’s for sure.”

Hermione was bewildered. She’d known that George would support her, but she hadn’t expected his support to go that far. “George, I didn’t come here to ask for money…”

He cut her off with a raised hand. “I know you didn’t. I offered it. Think of it as a memorial fund or something. Fred…he’d want to help, and so do I.” His smile was sad now, but it was still there. “You’ve got an incredible mind, Hermione, and an even better idea. This is wonderful. Sure, some people will call you crazy, but you’re not. You’re a visionary; I should know, so am I.” He winked at her and shrugged. “You need a plan. So, let’s talk it through. I’ll order us some food at the Cauldron; we’ve got a lot to think about.”

They spent the rest of the evening with the shop closed as they talked through Hermione’s idea and ate dinner. Somewhere halfway through their food, and almost halfway through the growler of beer George had filled at the same time, they decided to invite Harry to join them. A quick floo call and an apparition later, Harry and Ginny had joined them with more beer in hand. Ginny appeared nervous until Hermione hugged her and kissed her cheek, then the four of them settled in with their glasses and their ideas. Between Hermione and Harry’s idealism and the business sense of George and Ginny, what had started a few hours ago as a distant dream became possible.

Hermione looked out over the table covered with glasses, plates, and pages of notes and laughed. As the others looked at her, she wiped her eyes clear of the tears that were springing up and smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered. Harry was the closest at that moment and grabbed her in a hug.

“Well Hermione,” George started with a playful tone, “looks like you need to quit your job and find some money.”

“It needs a name,” Ginny said suddenly.

Everyone nodded in agreement. George looked thoughtful. “I liked what you said earlier, Hermione. Coalition, it’s a good word.”

They all thought for a moment, tossing around words like ‘fair’ and ‘equal’ as Hermione doodled the words at the top of one of the sheets of notes. Finally something sounded right and she stopped. “I think that’s it.”

Between all of the doodles were the words ‘Coalition for the Ethical Treatment of All Beings.’

“CETAB is better than SPEW I suppose.” Harry joked, earning an elbow to the ribs from Hermione.

“This is going to be amazing,” Ginny said. Hermione flushed with pride; this was what she was meant to do.

 

 


	4. The Face of the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never loved George Weasley more!  
> As always, the chapter title is from the Jekyll and Hyde soundtrack, this time from the song "No One Knows Who I Am."  
> je0213, a fabulous beta and the reason this story exists, thank you!  
> I hope you all like the first chapter NOT told from Hermione's perspective. Cheers.

The tidy but numerous piles of paperwork on Draco’s desk had been driving him insane all day, which is why he had gotten this far into the afternoon without stopping for lunch. His stomach rumbled and he looked up at the clock. Almost three o’clock. Madeline, his secretary, had told him in no uncertain terms this morning that he had a three o’clock meeting he wasn’t to miss, so getting out early to find food wasn’t an option.

His office was smaller than he’d like. One day, he’d have a larger space with more offices, more help, and a damn cafeteria. For now, he was stuck in this space in the Hawkins Building. The Hawkins Building was a mile or so from the Ministry itself. It had been bought by wizards some time ago and since charmed to hide it from muggle sight, giving wizards rentable office space. Someday, he’d own the whole building; if not this one, he’d own a different one.  

Three o’clock came, and then five after, and just as Draco was about to call out to Madeline that he wasn’t hanging around here for some git who couldn’t bother to keep an appointment, a very flustered George Weasley flew threw his office door.

“Sorry Malfoy, I had customers. I couldn’t get them out fast enough.” Weasley plopped into the chair and laced his fingers over his stomach as he slouched.

“I keep telling you to employ people to handle those things, but you never listen.” Draco couldn’t help the smile. “What are you doing here, George? Our quarterly isn’t for another few weeks.”

George shrugged with a grin. “I happen to like my store. Someone else runs the Hogsmeade location, that’s hard enough to handle.” The redhead cleared his throat and then continued. “I’m here for someone else, actually. A friend of mine, you know her, is looking to start a new venture, and I think you should look into investing. I am, but I don’t have anywhere near enough.”

“You’re doing well.” It was a reflex; Draco spent a lot of time reassuring the people whose ventures he’d invested in that their businesses were on the upswing. “Anyway, who is it, then? And why on Earth are you here instead of them?” He had to admit a certain curiosity. Draco had grown to like this particular Weasley in the time they’d spent together. He’d invested in George’s acquisition of Zonko’s Joke Shop as one of his first major capitalist ventures. George  had never doubted Draco’s ability to change, which he appreciated.

George looked uncomfortable. “It’s Hermione. Granger.” He added her surname as an afterthought, as if Draco knew an abundance of women named Hermione. Draco froze and understood why George was here without the witch he wanted to help.

Draco raised his eyebrows. “She doesn’t know you’re here.” It wasn’t a question, and the flush that colored George’s face confirmed what he already knew. He hadn’t seen Miss Granger since she’d testified on his behalf at the Ministry after the war had finished. It was partially due to her that he was a free man now. He wiped his brow as he thought. “Why are you here, George?”

George looked grim and determined. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Draco. Hell, I never thought I’d say it, but we’re friendly. I’d tell Hermione to come here herself but…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“But you don’t think she’d ever come to me for assistance?” Draco sighed as he leaned back in his own chair. It was likely true; he’d been terrible to her, once upon a time.

“She doesn’t know. You told me not to advertise that you were my investor, and I didn’t. You’re not looking for pats on the back here. She doesn’t know this Draco Malfoy, she only knows the prat she knew at school. Well, him and the incredibly confusing dark wizard, who wasn’t really a dark wizard.” Draco didn’t like hearing it, but it was true. George pressed on. “She testified for you because she knew she couldn’t let those things go unsaid, but she has no way of knowing that you’d help her now. I’ll vouch for you, and if you could just reach out to her, I think she might take it.”

The idea of being in close quarters with Hermione Granger again set his nerves on edge, if Draco was honest. They’d never had much in common, they’d been enemies as long as he could remember, but he had to admit there was always something admirable about her. He heaved one more sigh before he resigned himself to this. “Tell me about the project.”

George grinned, knowing he’d won. “That’s the spirit. Alright, she wants to make a coalition to help underprivileged magical beings.”

“Of course she does.” The snide comment slipped out before Draco could stop it. “Sorry. Habit. Go on.”

George explained the basics of Granger’s idea, and while it was indeed something he could picture her doing, it was also very ambitious. Legal help and shelter for magical creatures, plus whatever other fantastic ideas he was sure she had, and none of them would come cheap. After George was done, Draco nodded. “It’s…admirable. I’ll write to her. You said it yourself, though: she likely won’t take my help.”

“She loves this more than she hates you, Malfoy. At least now she does.” George stood and held out his hand for Draco to shake. Draco mirrored the motion, and they smiled at each other over their clasped hands. “See you in a few weeks? Lunch and quarterlies?”

“You might see me before, depending on how this letter to Granger goes.” Draco Malfoy wouldn’t admit it, but he was nervous. He’d been trying to be someone else for over a year; this would determine if he’d succeeded or not. His stomach roiled at the thought.

“It will be smashing, you’ll see.” George waved as he headed out.

Smashing. Sure. Draco sat back at his desk and glanced at the piles he already had formed, but he finally settled on grabbing a blank parchment. He wet his quill and took a deep breath to steady himself before he started to write.

_Ms. Granger,_

_It has come to my attention that you are looking to embark upon a business project that might require outside funding. As you may know, I am in the business world myself…_

He stared down at that sentence and scoffed at his own inept writing. He crumpled the draft, threw it in the vague direction of his wastebasket, and pulled out another sheet as he called for Madeline to order some food. This was going to be a very long afternoon.


	5. Find a New Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this one took me so much longer than the others! I'm also sorry it's a short bridge chapter! Look out for Ch. 6 though, it should be a good one!
> 
> As always, my beta rules my life and cracks the whip on this being written. ;-)

 

_Miss Granger,_

_It has been brought to my attention that you are currently undertaking a project that will require significant outside funding. As you may not be aware, I am currently in the business of funding such ventures, and I am interested in investing in this opportunity. If you are amenable, I would like to arrange a meeting so that I could hear more about the project._

_Let me know what dates could work for you, and we can make the necessary plans._

_Regards,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Hermione had read the note about a hundred times since it had been delivered to her apartment by a large and impressive eagle owl. Shocked, she’d given the owl a treat and sent it back from whence it came; she’d only realized after her fiftieth reading or so that he might take the lack of reply as a slight.

Did she care if he took it as a slight? They hadn’t spoken since she’d testified for him at the trial, and she hadn’t expected them to ever speak again. There was quite a bit of distance between ‘he didn’t really try to kill anyone’ and ‘we’re friends now’, and neither of them had seemed like they really wanted to bridge that chasm, or even get to the point of civility.

Until now.

Hermione was pacing again, and she didn’t know what to say. Did she want to go into business with Malfoy? He apparently had deep pockets, and it might not be all bad. But where had he even heard? Sure, it was possible that one of the men she’d met with so far had whispered it to someone who had in turn told him, but that was a long shot. She heaved a sigh. It had been a stressful two weeks since she’d quit her job and started trying to make this dream a reality, and she needed outside eyes on this. With the note clutched in her hands she apparated out of her apartment and reappeared on the street outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes on Diagon Alley.

She hurried into the store and walked straight into the back room, figuring George would follow her when he was ready. It was fairly close to closing time anyway. She plopped herself at the table in the back room and helped herself to a candy from the bowl on the table, making sure to inspect it first. It would not be the first time someone had fallen prey to the candy actually being a Wheezes product.

Hermione tried to calm down in the few minutes it took for George to appear. She knew she was probably over-reacting, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was strange. George ambled back, and Hermione tried to emulate his calm. “Stores’ closed. Hello to you too, by the way.” He sat across the table from her and raised his eyebrows.

“Hello. Sorry. I just figured you’d be done soon, and look!” She thrust the note from Draco Malfoy across the table at George and sat back with a huff.

George took the note carefully, as if it might explode, and read it quickly. “Oh. Well this is great, isn’t it? You’ve been stressed out beyond belief about funding. He has funds. Maybe now you can stop stalking into my joke shop looking like someone tried to kill you.” He thought about it. “Again.”

“Why would he write to me at all, George? We aren’t friends, we haven’t spoken at all since his trial! We didn’t even speak at the damn trial!” She rubbed her temples as she tried to sort out her thoughts. “He’s not as despicable as I thought he was, fine, but that is still a large leap to help me of all people fund an equality coalition. Why?”

George rolled his eyes. “I asked him to reach out.” The admission shocked Hermione, and it must have shown on her face, because George shrugged. “Mystery solved. I asked, and he agreed.”

“But…why are you socializing with him? What is happening here?” Hermione was only more confused now.

“After Fred died, the Zonko’s acquisition almost went up in flames. I let a lot of things slide, and I almost lost the deal. Draco swept in, offered to help in exchange for partial ownership of the store, and I agreed. He helped me keep Fred’s legacy alive, and his only real request outside of the business aspects of it was that I not tell any of you. He didn’t want anyone to think he was trying to buy your favor.” George was smiling now, and he leaned forward to put a hand on Hermione’s arm. “I know it seems crazy; I never would have thought the git I knew in school could do this either. He and I are friendly now, sometimes I think we’re even friends. I told him about what you are trying to do, and he wanted to hear more.” With a squeeze, George released her arm and sat back to give her a moment to process.

Hermione couldn’t believe it at first, but she knew George wouldn’t lie to her. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

George thought about it for a minute. “A mixture of shame and respecting his wishes, I suppose. I almost blew it, Hermione. He saved the whole deal, and all he wanted was to keep it between us. He could have used me as some advertisement or success story, but he didn’t. He just really wanted to help. We have lunch now, mostly to discuss business, and it’s like he is a different person.”

Hermione nodded. “So, you think I should do it, then?”

“I think you should at least meet with him. It can’t hurt. If you don’t like what he has to say, then you just don’t do it. But at least meet with him.”

George had a point. Hermione sighed. “Fine. Can I borrow your owl? Let me write this down and get it over with.” She couldn’t help but smile at George’s obvious enthusiasm as he fetched Simon, his owl. 

_Mister Malfoy,_

_I am amenable to meeting with you. I am available Wednesday at one. Does that fit into your schedule?_

_Thank you for your interest in my project._

_Cheers,_

_Hermione_


	6. Where's the Prize I Have My Eyes On?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a terrible fic writer, and I am so so sorry. Real life got kinda tough there for a while. but I am back! My apologies for leaving you all in WIP hell!

Hermione hastily shoved bobby pins in her hair, trying to get the front bits out of her eyes and look presentable at the same time. She cursed under her breath. She was running late, for her, because she’d tried on approximately sixteen different outfits trying to find the right one. It was only because of the project, she told herself. It was only because she needed to be taken seriously, it had nothing to do with who her meeting was with. Hermione was also an expert at talking a subject to death, even to herself, apparently. After outfit sixteen, she’d eventually given up and settled on her current grey skirt, white shirt, and light pink cardigan; soft, professional, and frankly, she was tired of looking at herself in the mirror. Hair finally tamed, she swept on some mascara and lip gloss and appraised her reflection.

“Hermione, you’re a crazy person. It’s just Malfoy. Just Draco Malfoy.” She saw her lips move as she said it, but no amount of logic had successfully wrangled the butterflies in her stomach. She sighed, stepped into one of her two pairs of heels, and apparated down to the Hawkins Building, Coalition folder in hand. As she found the lift and pressed the appropriate floor, she fiddled with the chain of her golden collar pin. It had been a present from her mother, and today the gold chains felt soothing between her fingers. The elevator dinged gently as the doors opened, and Hermione allowed herself one more deep breath before she set out to find Malfoy’s office.

Office 302, third floor, second on the right. Outside of the offices themselves were a few cubicles; secretaries, Hermione assumed. She approached the blonde who sat at the cube outside of 302 and gave a polite smile. The woman was young, around her age, and look expectantly up at Hermione. “May I help you?”

“Ah, yes. I have an appointment with Mal – Mister Malfoy?” Hermione stumbled a bit over giving him a title. They’d been on a purely last name basis for so many years. The secretary checked her records and nodded.

“Miss Granger? I’m Madeline, Mister Malfoy is expecting you. Go on in.” She gestured at the door behind her and went back to her work, while Hermione tried to puzzle out exactly when a hunk of wood with a pane of frosted glass became intimidating.

This was absurd. It was only Draco Malfoy. He’d never been a match for her before, and he wasn’t now. Hermione squared her shoulders and walked into his office. Draco was at his desk and looked up from whatever he was writing as she walked in. She saw him swallow and felt relieved that she likely hadn’t been the only one nervous about this. “Hello.”

Hermione stepped closer and held out a hand, the first bridge across the chasm of history between them. “It’s…been some time, hasn’t it?”

Draco stood and took her hand, shaking it firmly but not aggressively. “It has. You look well.” He motioned to one of the chairs across from him as he sat back down, moving the letter he’d been working on to the side of his desk. He ran a hand through the side of his hair, and Hermione couldn’t help but think how different he looked without his hair plastered to his skull. He noticed the smirk that bloomed on her face at the thought and raised an eyebrow. “Something funny, Granger?”

Perhaps jokes about his unfortunate hair history weren’t appropriate, and it wasn’t like she had any ground to stand on there, so Hermione shook her head. “I just don’t think either of us ever expected to be here, did we?” She laid her folder on the desk and shrugged. “I think we’re both adults enough to acknowledge this is a bit awkward.”

Draco nodded. “Agreed. To business, then? George assures me this project is very interesting.” He could feel the tension in his shoulders and tried to will it away. This was a meeting, like any other. He could see that Granger wasn’t moving with her usual ease either, though it wasn’t as if he had spent any time studying how she moved.

She pushed the folder across the desk at him. “Business. In there, you’ll find all of my current notes about the Coalition for the Ethical Treatment of All Beings. In short, I hope to create an entity that could offer certain protections to beings being persecuted, as well as lobby the Ministry and businesses for their rights.”

Draco flipped open the folder and glanced over the opening page of her notes, though most people would consider it a very thorough report. It was far more than what most of the people he’d worked with ever came to a first meeting with. He bit back a bookworm retort, and another about how she hadn’t changed at all, and nodded. “It’s a lofty goal. Something like this would need a building, plus advocates, counselors…” His eyes met hers across the desk. “You’re ahead on the advocate part, at least. I assume for now you’ll be taking the majority of that on. Having just left the relevant department at the Ministry, you’d be the best person for the job even if someone else was spearheading this effort.”

“I suppose.” Hermione was shocked at her first compliment from Draco Malfoy. “Though…I admit that while I have a lot of ideas in there,” she pointed to the folder, “I don’t have a lot of ideas on how something like this is actually run.”

Draco nodded. “Understood. For a while, at least, I would be willing to co-chair this…Coalition with you. If you and I can agree to the terms, that is. As an investor, a position on the board and some percentage of the profits are customary.”

Draco could see Hermione bristle, and wondered where he’d gone wrong. “I don’t want to do this for profit. I want this to be a charitable organization.”

“Even non-profit organizations pull salaries for their staff, Granger, even in the muggle world.” He tried not to be offended by her obvious and complete shock. “Don’t faint. I’ve got enough muggleborn witches and wizards I work with in this industry, I had to learn what they were talking about to be effective.” He took a breath.

Hermione tilted her head quizzically and looked at him. “Why are you doing this, Malfoy? Why am I here?”

Draco had known this was coming, and he laced his fingers together as he took a deep breath. “You’re here because I think this is a good idea. And because I want to prove to everyone, including you, that I am not the monster you all think I am, that what you said at my trial was true.” His eyes met hers and held them in an earnest gaze. “I was a prat, Hermione, but I don’t want to be a man who has only ever collected enemies. I want to do something different with my life, and if you’re willing to see that, we can do business.”

The tension stretched between them as he waited for her to decide. Hermione swallowed and took a deep breath as she processed. “I think…I think we can do business. Draco.” He’d used her first name, and she found that his felt awkward on her tongue. It would take getting used to, but she had a feeling if they were really going to do this that she would get plenty of practice.

He gave her a curt nod and unlaced his fingers. He’d been holding them so tightly that he needed to shake the blood back into them as he looked back at her folder. “This is a lot of information, so let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

They spent the next two hours leaned over the pages she’d supplied, with Draco making notes in her margins. They bickered over some of it; Draco was more monetarily minded, where her passion for this lay in the ideals, but they found some common ground. They drafted a mission statement and started a basic business plan when the door opened and Madeline’s head popped in. “Mister Malfoy, your three o’ clock is here.” Malfoy glanced at the clock and noticed with a shock that it was ten after already. He waved her off and looked at Hermione with a small smile.

“It appears we’ll need another meeting.” Hermione was shocked to be suggesting it, but they worked well together. If only he’d been less of a prat at school, Hermione could only imagine the things they could have done together. His mind was a machine, and she’d never given him enough credit for it.

“It appears so. This business plan needs work, and you’ll need a board. You and I won’t be enough, so figure out a couple others. I suggest George.” Malfoy stood and offered his hand. “Until next time, Hermione.” It occurred to him that he’d not asked to use her given name. “If I can call you Hermione.”

She grinned, and Draco returned the favor. “Only if I can call you Draco.” They both gave a small laugh, and she dropped the handshake. “You keep that file, I have other copies. I’ll make my appointment on the way out? Say…Monday?”

“Monday. Tell Madeline, she keeps me in line.” Draco nodded and folded up the Coalition paperwork in front of him.

“Does she? I wouldn’t have thought it possible,” Hermione quipped on her way out the door. She gave a wave to Draco and headed out, stopping at Madeline’s desk to set an appointment for the same time on Monday. She couldn’t believe she’d just made a joke with him, couldn’t believe she was entering into business with a Malfoy, and she desperately needed to decompress all of this information somehow.

A pint with George sounded like the way to go.

It would be a while before George’s store was closed, so Hermione headed to Diagon Alley and wandered through the shops. She headed into Madame Pimpernelle’s first, as she was running low on her hair-smoothing potion. She let herself look at the various beauties at the jewelry seller’s stall, and then headed in to Flourish and Blott’s. She breathed in the smell of books and felt at home at once, as she had every time she’d come here. Today, Hermione headed for the books on magical law first. The amount Malfoy – Draco, she had to remind herself – had studied muggle laws and economics was inspiring and a surprise that she felt the need to reciprocate. She selected two volumes and sat in the stacks, flipping pages as her mind wandered over the meeting, and what might be useful to learn. In the end, she put one book back and bought the second before finally heading to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

George was mid-conversation with a wizard who looked to be a couple of years older than Hermione, and he waved her over. “Hermione, this is James. He’ll be working here some nights, helping me out and closing the shop.” She and James exchanged pleasantries, and George nodded. “Very good. So. The store is yours for an hour, James. I’ll be up the road, Leaky Cauldron, don’t blow up my shop.”

Hermione smiled up at him as they walked toward the door. “Presumptuous of you, isn’t it? Assuming I came to spirit you away to the Cauldron?”

George scoffed. “If you didn’t, I’m offended.”

The door to the shop closed behind them and Hermione nodded. “I’m both proud and shocked you hired someone, finally. You practically live at that shop.”

“A fact my mum has pointed out several times, and nagged me about never coming for dinner, and never visiting Ron in his oh so sad state.” George winced. “Sorry. I know it’s a sensitive topic…”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t expect any of you to avoid him, and honestly I miss talking to him.” Ron had made it perfectly clear when she left that he didn’t want to see her, and Hermione had tried to allow him that space. She didn’t miss being his girlfriend, but Ron had been one of her two best friends since she was eleven. “Not doing well, then? Since the auror exam?” She was sympathetic, though not surprised.

“Nope. He’s…Ron.” George sighed. “Let’s not ruin a perfectly good beer with talk of my idiot brother, shall we?” He held open the door to the Cauldron for her, and they sat at the bar and ordered. “Your meeting was today, yeah? Tell me how it went.”

As a beer appeared in front of her, Hermione shrugged and smiled. “It was surprisingly pleasant. We got started, and I think we’re in business. I scheduled another meeting on Monday.” She took a long sip or her beer and nudged George. “Thanks. Draco…he’s very different.”

George grinned and clinked their glasses. “I told you. This is great! So he said yes, and you’re working out getting the Coalition up and running?”

“He did, and we are. He was…sincere. It was strange.” She held up a hand before George could leap to Malfoy’s defense. “I know. Different. We have to get used to each other, but if we can maintain today’s level of civility, I think we can work together.”

“Cheers to change, both good and strange!” George clinked their glasses again with a giggle. “I rhymed! Check it out, I’m a poet too.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed along with him. “Both good and strange, indeed.”

 

 


End file.
